


turn to dust

by rhodee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Break Up, Closure, Heavy Angst, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Sad Ending, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony's POV, Unrequited Love, but it is unrequited, i mean it's a little complex, mascara alert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23433484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodee/pseuds/rhodee
Summary: I’m dying,he wants to say.I’m dying and I need you.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 44
Kudos: 90





	1. i built a home - for you, for me.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thought i'd write something about never getting closure because well - angst. also, lack of closure terrifies me, and i thought, what better to embody this fear of mine than in a frostiron fic? 
> 
> happy reading!

They said he had a month, at the least. Two if he was lucky. 

If you asked Tony Stark to describe himself, the last word he’d use would be lucky. 

Grade IV brain tumour - one of the worst cases they had ever seen. _It’s too late, treatment would be ineffective,_ was what they had said. _There’s nothing we can do,_ was what they had meant. 

Tony had listened, blank-faced, as the doctors listed out the several symptoms he’d be succumbing to during his final weeks - a universe away from his previous headaches and drowsiness. Medical terms flew in and out of his head - dementia, agonal breathing, dysphagia, epilepsy, visual hallucinations, delirium and a decreased appetite. Not that Tony followed a commendable diet in the first place, anyway. 

He thinks about all the movies he’d seen, the usual cliche about the protagonist finding out about their impending demise and setting out to do one last thing, finish one last adventure, make amends with one last person. It never made sense to Tony - why wait until you’re dying to what you’ve always wanted to? Why _wait_? 

_Oh, Anthony,_ the memory of a soft laugh ripples through his brain, _ever so impatient._

Tony gets it now, realizes what drove all of those dying people to pursue their impulses. Time. Or, well, the absence of it. Their end was soon, inevitable, which is why it gave them reason, propelled them to follow the heart’s desire before their time ran out. _Tick, tick, tick._ Each second serving as a constant reminder of what could be, what could have, what _could_. 

Which was how he found himself parked outside Loki’s favourite coffee shop. Tony needs it, he _needs_ the closure. 

Two hours soon turned into three that Tony spent impatiently tapping at the driver’s wheel, waiting - _hoping_ \- for the familiar face to walk in. Given, two years is a long time, and there’s no saying how much Loki’s changed in the time span. 

But - _there’s always a but when it comes to Loki, isn’t there?_ \- with all his sharp words and soft gazes, his cutting features and lingering touches, unpredictable when he could be and pacific when he wanted to, and all his other contradictions that Tony fell oh-so deeply in love with, there was only one constant to the force of nature that was Loki. 

The coffee shop was almost a 30-minute drive away from where Tony lived, which made it unlikely that he ended up there in the first place, all those years ago. Even more unlikely, was that he ended up in line behind an extremely attractive, dark-haired male who was kind enough to help him out with his order. 

_You know,_ he had said, _for someone who knows everything under the sky, you manage to look completely ridiculous when you don’t know what to order._

It wasn’t luck, Tony reminds himself, because if it were, Loki would still be his. He does that often, he notes, constantly reminding himself that he wasn’t lucky - not the fact that he’s a Stark, not the fact that he’s the heir to a multi-billion dollar company and the family fortune, and not the fact that he can get anything he wants - that is, if he doesn’t already have it. It was pure chance that he was born a Stark, and what followed were the benefits. The only time Tony Stark had ever felt lucky was when he met Loki, and he embraced it in the entirety of their relationship - until Loki left and Tony decided that there is no such thing as luck. Just chance. Coincidence. 

Tony continued to stare at the coffee shop, watching as people entered and exited. He hadn’t come back here since… well, since Loki broke up with him. Two years - 26 months, to be exact - and Tony still remembers it as clear as day. 

Remembers the way Loki’s fingers ghosted over his skin for the last time, too afraid to make contact as if he’d burn himself, remembers green _green_ eyes swirling with emotions that Tony was too afraid to comprehend, too afraid to _ask_ . He remembers raw panic overwhelming him, rushing to his brain like wildfire and sending shivers through every bone in his body. Remembers _chills_ , and because Loki radiated the kind of warmth a fireplace does, Tony wanted to go _closer_ , like a moth being pulled to a flame, but Loki’s eyes were cold - _blank_ \- devoid of their usual warmth and- and that’s exactly what Loki was. A contradiction. Everything about Loki contradicted himself, so how was Tony ever supposed to keep his sanity? 

Two years, and Tony still remains wholly consumed with the memories of his former lover, desperately grasping onto the memory of the last time he saw Loki and plastering the image against his skull every waking moment. So engrossed with the memory, he almost missed the lean figure sneaking their way into the coffee shop. Almost missed how Loki hands were protectively interlocked with a slightly shorter, masculine figure. 

Tony stares until they disappear behind the glass door, stares at the area they had just occupied and he doesn’t have the self-preservation to tear his eyes away. _Pathetic_ , he thinks. He _knows_. 

Blinding images of Loki holding Tony’s hands wash over him, swallowing the entirety of his brain, and he feels every part of his body tingle from the imprints Loki left on him. Loki’s lips against his skin, hands against skin, _skin against skin_. Soft whispers against Tony’s skin as if every curve and crevice on his body could keep a secret of their own, holding onto it with every fibre of their being. 

His legs feel like lead as he gets out of the car - putting one foot in front of the other has never been this hard. He feels a thunderstorm brewing inside him, weighing him down with every step he takes. Tony’s nearly caught off guard with his reflection on the glass door - he looks downright _miserable_ , Loki wouldn’t even give him a second glance. The glass feels like icicles piercing through his skin as he pushes the door open, and the strong, familiar whiff of coffee nearly makes him lose his balance. There was something about the smell there that made it feel like home, and maybe all this time, Tony had just been homesick. 

He spots Loki easily enough, standing a few feet away, amongst all the buzzing and chatter of the staff and customers, because Loki _always_ stood out - _like a sore thumb_ , a voice in Tony’s mind hisses - and right next to Loki, _still holding his fucking hand,_ stands the second guy. Tony can’t see much with the second male’s back to him, but he’s not as short as Tony thought - because well, anybody would look short standing in close proximity to Loki - and Tony could make out soft brown curls ending right at the nape of his neck. Tony wonders if Loki runs his fingers through his long hair just like he did to Tony’s. 

Tony’s eyes flick over to Loki’s profile, and he’s thankful Loki’s so engrossed with reading the menu displayed above the counter - _why is he reading the menu? -_ that he doesn’t notice the way Tony’s breath hitches. The length of two years hits him like a _truck,_ because this is the _closest_ he’s ever been to Loki since the day he walked out on Tony, and _yet,_ Loki looks exactly the same as on the day he left. Did the time ever pass? Does Loki know how long it’s been? Does he count the months and days like Tony does?

There's an unfriendly voice in his head that answers the question for him. 

Something Loki’s male friend says catches Loki’s attention, diverting his gaze to look down at the man with a small laugh escaping his lips. Tony remembers how Loki looked at him the same way, laughed with Tony the same way, always so _amused_ . Loki must have sensed someone watching him, because, before Tony could even _blink_ , Loki’s eyes had moved past his male friend, and locked it with Tony’s. 

Tony could have pinpointed the exact moment Loki registered the situation, his eyes widening with recognition only to crinkle with a small furrow of his brows. Barely noticeable, unless you’ve memorized every inch of Loki’s face, memorized his smallest of reactions. 

The smile wiped off of Loki’s face just as easily as it had formed, and Tony hated knowing he was the reason for that.


	2. a life with love is a life that's been lived

Tony figures Loki’s friend knows him just as well as Tony used to - _does he still? -_ because he turns around to follow Loki’s gaze, and the next thing he knows, Tony’s being scrutinized by two pairs of very confused eyes. 

There was the confusion that bore a resemblance to the usual, _is that Tony Stark?_ layered with questions of _what is he doing here?_ and more importantly, _why is he looking at Loki like that?_

Tony hopes the guy doesn’t see the pain in his eyes. 

Then, there was the confusion that Tony never wanted to deal with - _God, if only he could turn back time -_ because this was the kind of confusion that was on the verge of panic. And if Loki’s frantic glances from Tony and his friend, and back to Tony again, was anything to go by: Loki was well on his way there. Tony hates the way Loki’s looking at him, as if _Tony_ was at fault. 

As if _Tony_ had walked into his life and, graceful as he was, shattered their relationship to it’s very core until there was nothing left to mend. As if _Tony_ had left him vulnerable to the piercing memories of their time together, left him alone and wondering what he did wrong. As if it was _Tony_ who was looking at him right now, holding hands with a stranger and absolutely contented with his life - save for the current situation, of course. 

No, it was _Loki_ \- always _Loki -_ who still managed to dig up every ounce of guilt Tony felt and just as easily project it towards Tony. 

_This was your doing. You are at fault. Only you._

With a kind of difficulty Tony wouldn’t ever admit to, he breaks away from Loki’s piercing stare, only to uncomfortably glance around the coffee shop. His attention is still on Loki, of course - _it always is, isn't it? Always has been -_ and from the corner of his eye, there’s a small conversation between Loki and his friend. Rushed, by the looks of it, if the friends not-so-subtle glances towards Tony were anything to go by. 

Tony was only mildly aware of him standing right at the exit of the coffee shop, but when a group of people neared the exit, Tony found himself not so gracefully wading through the crowd. He decided he was better off seated, because he wasn’t quite so sure he’d be on steady footing if he was subject to Loki’s gaze for more than a minute. He decides to sit on one of the bar stools near him. The row of bar stools stretched the entire length of the cafe’s side and gave a clear view of the outside, paired with a wooden plank that served as a table and stretched just as far. Loki used to love sitting on these stools, look outside and observe the people walking past the street while Tony sat beside him, occasionally doing the same as well. It always gave them something to talk about.

For a brief _horrifying_ second, Tony hoped he wasn’t reverting back to his old habits for the sake of a comfort zone. The logical reason was that this was the closest place to sit, but if there’s anything Tony was good at, it was overthinking. But maybe, just _maybe,_ he sat here because he knew, if they did run out of things to talk about, they could just look outside and find something of interest. Or was it that he wanted to remind Loki of the when they used to sit here, _happy, in love_ and barely aware of the hours passing by until the sky turned a dark orange, the street lights flickering on and they were suddenly reminded of the time. Maybe he wanted Loki to know it was a mistake letting go. 

He feels Loki before he sees him, or hears him, even. All of a sudden, there’s a thickness in the air that’s weighing Tony down, and he blames it on the figure occupying the space behind him. 

“Why are you here, Anthony?” Loki’s voice, ever so smooth and ever the same, manages to sound excruciatingly sharp and closed off. It’s the tone Loki takes when he knows he won’t like the answer, when he wants to finish the conversation sooner than it started, and Tony hates that he knows that. Hates that it’s directed at him. Tony knows that Loki knows it as well, which is exactly why the question hurt more than it intended to.

_Pushing me away; he’s still pushing me away._

There was a time when Loki called him Anthony with love oozing from his lips, pronouncing his name as if it was the most fragile thing Loki has owned - _and he really did own Tony, didn’t he? Owned every single fibre of his being_ \- but now Tony’s name just sounds crude and harsh from Loki’s mouth. 

Tony doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even move a single muscle because he still has to respond to him and he can’t risk his face betraying his emotions before he’s even had a chance to speak. He wants to say, _I miss you. I miss the me when I was with you._ He wants to say, _I’m dying._

The truth is at the tip of his tongue - eager to spill - and yet, Tony shoves it back in. He turns around, a small smile plastered on his face and answers, “I’m moving next month; thought I’d-” He looks away, because he _physically_ can’t look at Loki - not when Loki looks like that. Still so beautiful: pale skin and dark hair that contrasted and complemented each other like night and day. He tries to disguise the sudden break in eye-contact as a means to glance around the coffee shop, gulps, and then continues, “-thought I’d come back to a few places that made New York home.” 

Loki knows Tony just like Tony knows Loki, which is why when Tony glances back at Loki, it’s pretty evident that Loki doesn’t buy it. He knows Tony’s lying through his teeth, knows there’s probably - _no, definitely -_ another reason that Tony ended up here the same time Loki did. Tony looks over Loki’s shoulder and sees Loki’s friend at the counter. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but Tony was partially hoping the friend had left after Loki’s short conversation with him. _As if Loki would ever do that_. He’s probably hoping his conversation with Tony gets done with as soon as possible. 

“Moving where?” Loki asks, and it’s a challenge. Tony saw that in the way Loki’s eyes flashed, paired with the contradicting innocent tilt to his voice. _Lie. Lie to me, again._ Green _green_ eyes - Tony can’t break his gaze and he feels like he’s falling, because Loki’s here and he’s daring Tony to lie to him. He can barely hold on to this reality, but Tony does. And lies. 

“Florence. Aunt Anna’s living alone there.” The lie about his mother’s sister slips out easily, and just so that Loki doesn’t pursue the topic any further, he adds, “Her husband passed away two months ago.” Liar. _Liar. Liarliarliar._

And because Loki is Loki, and because Tony was well aware who he had fallen in love with, Loki was smart enough to slip in through the cracks of his story. Loki’s eyes are slightly narrowed when he starts talking again. _Questioning._

“I thought you didn’t talk to her after-” 

“Yeah, well - a lot has changed, hasn’t it?” Tony couldn’t resist snapping, more from shame than anger, because _why was Loki doing this to him?_ To his luck, Loki mistakes it for anger, mistakes it for crossing a line and the hesitation is clear in Loki’s eyes, clear in the way he had been stopped mid-sentence and his lips were still parted. A beat passes, and Tony watches as guilt slowly seeps into Loki’s eyes. His former lover finally exhales softly, pursing his lips into a thin line while glancing down. Tony’s heart skips a beat at how Loki’s dark lashes almost brushed over his cheek. 

Loki looks up again, and there’s a sentence forming on his lips - an apology maybe - but as soon as his lips part, Tony’s attention snaps to the approaching figure behind Loki’s shoulder. Loki follows Tony’s gaze, turning slightly and Tony still manages to see the relieved smile on Loki’s lips as his friend approaches with two cups of coffee. There’s a striking pain in his chest at the sight, and at this point, Tony’s fairly sure it’s not just a friend. 

The friend mirrors the smile Loki’s giving him as he hands Loki his coffee, but the next thing Tony knows, the friend is looking at him and the way he is, Tony’s at least ninety percent sure he doesn’t know about Loki and Tony. 

“Hey, I’m Eddie - well, Edward actually. It’s nice to meet you,” Eddie puts his hand out to shake Tony’s hand, realizes it’s the hand holding the cup of coffee and immediately switches, an embarrassed exclamation leaving his lips. 

“Tony,” he answers, shaking Eddie’s outstretched hand. Eddie’s eyes are a bright blue, twinkling like clear water, and Tony feels a strange sense of comfort with the man's gaze. From the corner of his eyes, he can sense Loki’s uncomfortable stature. 

“Yeah uh, I know. I’ve seen you on the telly,” Eddie’s cheeks are flushed, and Tony gets the feeling it’s more than just seeing him on the television. “Oh! And sorry about that weird look back there, Lo didn’t tell me he knew you. Imagine my surprise seeing Tony Stark staring at me!”

It’s an attempt to calm the heavy air around them that Eddie no doubt noticed, but there’s only one thing on Tony’s mind. _Lo._ He called Loki _Lo_ and Tony’s eyes are on Loki who suddenly looks very pale and uncomfortable and in the last place he wants to be. _Lo Lo Lo -_ the name is resonating inside Tony’s head like someone just clanged a tuning fork against a metal bowl. 

_“Okay, pick one. Lo or Lokes? Personally, I like Lo: short, sweet, to the point.”_

_“Neither.” Loki says from where his head is resting on Tony’s lap. They were watching a movie, and the protagonist had just called his romantic lead a nickname that she pretended to hate, but secretly really liked. “Besides, how would it matter if they’re both one syllable words anyway?”_

_Tony waits._

_“Please don’t call me Lo.”_

_Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his mouth. “Why?”_

_“I don’t know. It sounds lazy. I wouldn’t want someone putting such minimal effort into my name.”_

_“Lokes it is, then.” Tony confirms and starts running his fingers through Loki’s hair. He feels Loki relax against his lap._

Memories of Loki are fresh in his mind, like an old wound that somehow never heals and spills the occasional blood. He’s conflicted on whether to keep his distance with Loki - cold, indifferent, like nothing happened between them - or if he can talk to him like he used to, smile at him like he used to. He wants to bring down all his walls because Loki’s here, and Loki has been the only one who’s ever brought down his walls. Brick by brick, analysing him, giving him time, giving him space, until every part of Tony was exposed to Loki. Open, wholly and utterly vulnerable when Loki left, when Tony felt like a sheet of glass in the middle of a raging storm and was on the verge of falling over and shattering into a million pieces - never to be put back the same way again. Loki had left, and the walls came back up stronger than ever. But Loki’s here now, and it feels so easy to slip back into the times that were. 

Tony snaps back into reality when Loki turns to Eddie, telling him to go home, that he might take a while. He doesn’t miss the small squeeze Loki gives Eddie’s hands, because it’s the same squeeze Loki used to do with Tony to comfort him. It was impossible, Tony thinks now, the way that even at his heights of anxiety or stress, a small squeeze from Loki just as easily wiped it all away. He can’t bring himself to look away when Eddie leans forward to press a soft, chaste kiss against Loki’s lips. Tony feels pain like glass shattering against his skull. Loki hadn’t expected it either, and a quick, nervous glance towards Tony was all that was needed to confirm it. 

“Nice to meet you, Tony,” Eddie waves, the smile on his face spilling with kindness, and Tony barely manages the smile in return. He hopes it doesn’t look as pained as he feels. 

They’re alone again, and the awkwardness quickly settles in, making itself comfortable at the expense of Loki and Tony’s dignity. There are so many things Tony wants to ask him - but he doesn’t dare, doesn’t think he can handle the answers himself. He wants to ask, _are you happy?_ Wants to ask, _did you ever think of coming back?_ Wants to ask, _will you stay with me?_ Tony’s breathing his last breaths, his time is limited, and yet, he’d do anything for Loki to be beside him until his last moments.. 

_Why did you leave?_

“He seems nice,” is all Tony can say. It hurts him, to talk like that about someone else - _it should’ve been me -_ who Loki was seeing. 

“Anthony,” Loki says and his tone is too _condescending_ , too _pitying_ , and Tony hates it. Tony hates that Loki still knows him so well after all these years, and suddenly, Tony is afraid that Loki will be the only one who knew him. _Past tense. Knew._ “You haven’t changed at all.” He finishes, and Tony isn’t sure what to think about that. This conversation seems too superficial, so _unlike_ the two of them. He watches as Loki moves to take the vacant stool beside Tony, and when he sits down, Tony’s hit with flashbacks going at a thousand miles an hour. 

“I miss you,” Tony blurts out before he could stop himself. It’s the first truth he’s said today. _Well, there goes my self-preservation._

 _But it’s the truth_ , another voice in his mind adds. And God knows that Tony knows Loki knows that. Loki probably knew it the minute he set his sights on Tony. 

“I’m right here,” Loki says, softly, like speaking normally would break the fragile bubble that Tony was currently protecting himself with. _I’m right here,_ he had said. Not, _I miss you too_. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony immediately backtracks. He wants to get out of here, _he can’t do this._ “I shouldn’t have come here. _God -_ I don’t even know what I’m doing here.” Tony’s about to get up, hopefully make a run for it, but Loki stops him - hand clamped down on Tony’s own. 

Tony wants to melt into the touch, it feels like comfort and hope. It feels like _home -_ 2 years and _still._ Loki keeps his hand firm over Tony’s - _please don’t leave me, don’t let me go, not again, please not again -_ and there’s raw intensity in his eyes and Tony can’t look away. Won’t look away. 

“ _Don’t,”_ is all Loki says, and Tony holds his gaze. He feels trapped, bound like a wild animal and yet, he’s calm. 

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” Tony knew the words were genuine even before Loki said them, and he waits while Loki lifts his grip from Tony’s hand. Hesitant.

“I know you’re not sorry,” His smile is pained; forced. He hopes Loki sees that he’s trying. “But I forgive you.” _I always will._

Loki opens his mouth to say something, contradict the truth that just spilled from Tony’s mouth, but he stops himself. What could he say that would make this better? Once, Loki would have argued this with Tony for hours. 

The silence feels heavy, and neither of them make an effort to talk. 

Love had never come easy to Tony, and he wonders how it ever happened with Loki. After all, they were as different as any contradiction you could label them with. Their bodies vibrated differently, from their inner mechanisms to their outward responses - there was not a single thing common between them. And maybe, Tony wonders, that was what worked so well. 

“It would have been wrong of me to string you along,” Loki starts softly, cautiously, and Tony’s _blanked_ because - _what?_ “Falling out of love isn’t as liberating as movies make you think. It makes you second guess every choice, every action, every _thought_ until it quite literally consumes your very existence.” 

_Falling out of love?_

“I had to ask myself - was it my fault that I don’t love you anymore? Or was it yours? You - who was always so kind, so understanding, and so fiercely protective of me - or me?” Loki stops to take a breath, and Tony jumps in. Pushes all thought aside, and jumps in head first into the shallow side of the pool. 

“You should have _told_ me.” He’s angry, he wants to _cry,_ because Loki just admitted to not loving him anymore. Loki never had to worry about moving on, never had to worry about picking up the pieces. 

“And have you blame yourself? I know you, Anthony. Whatever happens - you always take the fault. You _want_ to take fault as if it’s something you thrive off of. I couldn’t let you take fault of this, not when I was to blame.” 

“So you left?” Tony bites out, his teeth grinding against each other. He’s trying to hold back the tears pooling in his eyes, trying to refrain his voice from shaking so much. “You knew what it would do to me, and you still _left_?” 

“Would you have felt better knowing that when I left, neither did I love you nor did it hurt me as much as it should have? Would you have continued to think of me as a lover, or in truth, as the selfish bastard that I was? Would it have made you feel better, constantly thinking that you weren’t good enough?” Loki’s shooting questions that Tony can’t possibly answer, but he doesn’t have to answer. Tony knew himself - and so did Loki, apparently - well enough to know what the answers would be. Loki slides his cup of coffee towards Tony, and just as silently, Tony takes it. 

The coffee’s cooled down too much for Tony’s liking, but he doesn’t mention it, and if Loki saw the fat tear drop into the coffee, he doesn’t mention it either. 

He’s always hated contradictions, hated that it always opposed each other, and hated that it had to be either this or that. Loki was the one contradiction he grew to love, but right now, he hated the way everything contradicted itself. Hated that Loki cared - _not loved -_ for him enough that he allowed Tony to hate him, rather than hating himself. He hated that he was so close to dying and yet, Loki makes him feel more alive than he’s ever felt. 

_I’m dying,_ he wants to say. _I’m dying and I need you._

“You might have thought you were doing me a favor - and really, for all I know, you really were,” Tony forces a laugh, because it’s funny. It’s a _hilarious_ turn of events, “but it doesn’t help that I still think about you leaving. I think of it so often - the whole concept of leaving - that it taints any relationship I want before it can even begin.” 

Loki’s looking at him, trying to understand, trying to relate, trying to _sympathize_ and Tony forces his eyes away. 

“Can you imagine? Meeting someone, thinking, _God, they’re amazing,_ only for you to worry about them leaving you. And you can’t stand them anymore, because they _will_ leave. They will leave, and you will be back to square one.”

“Anthony-” Loki starts, but Tony isn’t done yet. He has _one last_ thing to say.

“Imagine that with Eddie,” Tony says, and something in Loki’s face shifts. _Dangerous territory._ “Imagine meeting someone as wonderful, and carefree and _loving_ as him, only for thoughts of betrayal to consume and ruin any happiness you thought you could have with him. Because he’ll leave. They’ll all leave, and you will be left wondering what you did wrong, even though they believe they were doing it for your own good.” 

“That was low, _Stark,_ even for you.” Loki grits out, eyes flashing fiercely before they settle. He blinks a few too many times, and Tony can see Loki’s struggling with something - he isn’t quite sure what. When Loki speaks again, it’s different. 

“Besides,” a suspiciously nonchalant tone replaces the previously cold one, “you’re Tony Stark. Heir to Stark Industries. When you can have your pick from the ocean, why dwell on the ones eager to slip away?” 

Tony isn’t quite sure if Loki meant that as an insult, but before he can think much of it, Loki continues to speak. 

“You still have a long life ahead of you, Anthony. It’s time you let go of the past,” Loki places his hand over Tony’s and gives it a squeeze. The same squeeze he had given Eddie earlier, and the same squeeze he used to give Tony when they were in love. He missed it - _misses_ it. 

He can’t stop thinking of how Loki’s words hit a little too close to home, that getting over Loki isn’t something that can be done in a month, and maybe it’s about time he come to terms with the fact that, no matter what, his last thoughts will still be about Loki. 

Loki lets go of Tony’s hand and gets up, marking his cue to leave. He smiles at Tony, and it feels like an invitation - _you can tell me anything you want, Anthony, you can trust me -_ but Tony can only smile back. 

“I’ll see around then,” Loki says, after a long silence of him realizing Tony wasn’t going to say anything close to a goodbye, “Maybe before you leave for Italy.” 

“Yeah,” is all Tony says, because Loki just had to bring that up again, didn’t he? “Maybe.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it!


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